


Professor Layton and the Dream

by elementalram



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dream Sex, F/M, Fanart, Male Solo, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalram/pseuds/elementalram
Summary: The Professor dreams about the two women closest to him, Claire and Emmy, inviting him to join them for a secret three-way at a lovely Christmas party in someone else's home.  The second chapter is a bonus for anyone wanting to see the Professor take care of himself after having such a lascivious dream. ;)**Not-really-all-that-safe-for-work fanart added to Chapter 2!





	1. Dreaming

The halls of the mansion echoed with music and laughter. A ten foot Christmas tree stood in the living room, adorned from the very top branch to the edge of its hand crafted tree skirt in ornate baubles, colored lights and faux snow. Starry eyed, lightly inebriated lovers kissed beneath a mistletoe nearby in the soft glow cast by the towering elm. A DJ stood near the fireplace, taking requests for Christmas favorites. People danced, sang, chatted, ate good food and drank spiked eggnog. Most of the crowd was centered in this area, but a few small groups had branched off and relocated to the kitchen, the veranda, the pool table in the basement, and in one instance, a spare bedroom.

A bewildered Hershel Layton found himself a member of the last group, and he sat at the foot of the king sized bed as he watched, mouth agape, Emmy and Claire sprawled out on the bed before him. Though he himself was still dressed in his vest, matching slacks, dress shirt and tie, Emmy was scantily clad in in only her lacy underclothes while Claire was now completely bare. Emmy had Claire pinned and was excitedly biting and licking the side of her neck. Claire, in turn, was moaning her name and leaving red marks up and down Emmy's back and neck as she passionately scratched her skin with her nails. Emmy cupped her breast in her hand as she moved her kisses down Claire's sternum, who in turn wrapped her legs around her.

If Hershel possessed control of his faculties at the moment, he might have wondered how he ended up at a holiday party hosted by one of his assistance's many acquaintances when there was so much work to be done in his office. He may have pondered over how such a seemingly innocuous Christmas party at a stranger's lovely home led to a secret three way between his assistant, his girlfriend and himself. And where was his little blue shadow, Luke? This whole affair was, indeed, quite the puzzle.

But for now, there was no time to contemplate anything other than what was directly before him. He had already taken off his shoes and socks, and had carefully lain his favorite top hat on the bedside table next to the lamp, careful not to obstruct their only source of light. Now what?

From her vantage point between Claire's soft mounds, Emmy peered over at Hershel. Her eyes half lidded, obscured partially by her dark mane, and with an eyebrow raised she purred, "Need any help with that, Professor?" She glanced pointedly at the apex of his trousers.

Startled, Hershel attempted twice to start a sentence but failed, his face beet red. Now Claire was watching him also, her hair a rosy cinnamon halo around her countenance. Without a word, she stretched out the hand that wasn't tangled in Emmy's hair and ran it along the inside of his thigh, languidly tracing a soft finger along the stiff length already straining against the fabric of his pant leg; her soft lips parted and she let out a low, soft moan as Emmy continued her ministrations over and around her nipples.

He leaned forward, then stopped. What on earth does a gentleman do in a situation like this one? Emmy must have noticed his hesitation. "Here, why don't you switch places with me," she said, untangling herself from Claire.

He crawled over Claire in Emmy's stead and was rewarded by her warm smile. He smiled back, then buried his face in her chest, massaging her areola with his mouth. The whole situation was perplexing, but at least this was familiar, and the way she twisted her hands through his hair paired with her renewed moans told him he was doing at least as well as Emmy had on this matter.

Claire pulled at the knot of his tie and tossed it aside, then set to work undoing the buttons on his vest and shirt.  When he was satisfied with the attention he'd given her soft pink breasts, Hershel began a trail of kisses that would lead him southward. He caressed her abdomen below her belly button, then trailed a finger down through the patch of hair to part her wet folds. He had just begun to lick when he suddenly felt Emmy press against his still-raised backside with her hips. Her hands followed his spine down to grope his posterior before snaking around his waist to access his belt from behind.  The buckle, button and zipper now undone, she slid her hands down and cupped him with both hands.

She leaned forward and whispered in a singsong tone, "Guess who found the lotion, Professor!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned deeply into Claire, his voice muffled, which in turn elicited a moan from her. Emmy pulled him free of his trousers and was using one hand to pump his length and the other to roughly fondle his sac.

Claire was wiggling beneath him.  He quickly hummed an apology and resumed licking. He lifted her legs and she wrapped them over his shoulders as Emmy continued to stroke him. He licked along the pathway between her hole and her nub, circling the opening and rubbing against her labia with his tongue.  She cried out and gripped his hair tighter, chanting his name again and again.  Her back arched; Hershel could feel her clit throbbing in his mouth as she peaked, and did everything he could to control himself enough to keep from following suit.

Just then, Emmy forcefully pushed him over onto his back next to the still-panting Claire.  She straddled him and gripped him hard, surveying her spoils.  His face was flushed, his bare chest heaving.  His shirt was open but still around his arms; his pants and briefs were in a similar state around his thighs.  Slowly, she rubbed his tip against her slick wet entrance through her crotchless panties.  She guided him in a couple of inches, then eased him out.  Again she did this, grinning as she watched Hershel roll his head into the pillow.

"Emmy, please," he growled, arching his back.

"Please what, Professor?"

"Emmy...." he attempted to sound authoritative, but choked when she squeezed.

Claire, who had at this point recovered somewhat, propped herself up on one elbow beside Hershel. Without hesitation, she reached behind Emmy to play with him.

He bit his lip.  "Fuck me, Emmy!"

And with that, she took all of him in at once, grinding her hips at the base before moving up to plunge down again. She rolled her hips with each bounce, and as she moved, her hands lifted her hair behind her head, which of course had the added effect of lifting her bouncing, lace clad breasts.

Unable to control himself any longer, Hershel clamped his hands down on Emmy's hips and thrust upwards into her, catching her off guard. She put her hands on the headboard for support as Hershel powerfully commanded control. Discretion be damned, their raucous lovemaking could surely be heard by anyone walking down the hall.  In addition to the banging of the headboard against the wall, the pair were also moaning and screaming at a dangerously loud decibel.

Claire straddled one of Hershel's thighs behind Emmy, who had been temporarily rendered powerless. She wrapped her arms around Emmy and fondled her breasts through her lacy bra, pinching and thumbing her protruding nipples. Hershel watched her with bated breath and something not unlike trepidation as she slid a hand down past her belly button and tickled her swollen clit through the lacy black thong. As anticipated, Emmy involuntarily clenched around Hershel, making her even tighter, and with a gasp, he exploded inside of her, an intense pleasure rocking through his body. The sensation of his manhood twitching and throbbing inside of her paired with Claire's rubbing sent Emmy over the brink also, screaming obscenities toward the ceiling fan.

The trio collapsed, Hershel in the middle and the other two nestled into his open arms. He wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. He was certain that if he tried, he could recall a puzzle for them-- they might like that, he decided. But his mind was blissfully blank as his body reveled in the pure afterglow.

He closed his eyes and let the warmth overtake him. Before long, he heard a giggle, then another. He peeked at his companions and noticed that Claire and Emmy were mischievously eyeing one another over his chest. Concerned, Hershel looked from one to the other quizzically. Emmy piped up: "Professor, Claire is feeling left out. You only came once," she glanced at Claire, then back again, "but there are two of us."

"Oh!" He suddenly felt his heartbeat quicken as his gaze shifted between the two. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to-- but I'm just not sure--"

Claire smiled. "I think we may be able to find a solution."

With a finger, she softly tilted his face towards hers and kissed him lightly.  Emmy took advantage of his exposed neck and planted a few light kisses there. Their hands roamed over his chest and stomach, tweaking his nipples and caressing his skin.  Each kiss became more passionate, harder and more desperate until Claire finally pulled away, leaving Hershel breathless and gasping.

Down she moved, using her teeth to plant a line of sharp kisses down his chest.  She stopped just below his rib cage, biting and licking the sensitive skin there.  Emmy sat up, happy with the mark she'd left on the Professor's tender neck.  She took his hand next and licked one finger, then two, swirling her tongue around them and causing her boss to moan in pleasure.

"Lift your hips," Claire instructed and Hershel obeyed. Finally, the pants and briefs were gone, tossed to the floor next to the dresses and panties and shoes, and she settled down on her stomach between his open legs.  Starting at just above his knee, she bit and kissed the tender flesh. She planted another one just above that. The mix of pleasure, anticipation and just a little pain made him grip the bedsheets with his free hand, his knuckles white.

Still ravishing his sensitive fingertips, Emmy used her other hand to brush her nails agains the inside of his thigh.  Hershel was moaning something unintelligible as Claire planted her last kiss on his inner thigh.  She enveloped a testicle in her warm, wet mouth, licking his perineum as she did so.  Emmy traced a finger around the base of his newly re-engorged rod, then abandoned his fingers to bend over and take the larger prey into her mouth, tasting a mixture of his cum and her own juices from before.

At this, Hershel let out a loud, open-mouthed groan and reached out to pet the soft hair of whomever was closest. Claire and Emmy seemed now to be acting with an almost terrifying unison. Wordlessly, they rubbed, stroked, scratched licked, sucked and kissed everything between his belly button and knees. As one sucked his balls, the other worked on his shaft.  Then, they licked together from the base of his cock to tip, then kissed the sensitive head and each other at the top.

"Professor," Emmy panted from between Hershel's legs, "perhaps I've been hanging around you for too long, but I'm suddenly reminded of a puzzle." She turned to look at Claire beside her, who suddenly choked in laughter. Her mouth was still around his cock as she hummed mirthfully.

Hershel groaned and knit his brows together, but remained noncommittal. Emmy pressed on. "Okay, so a group of people are at a party when the host brings out a big tray full of shots."

Silence. Then, "Go on."

"So, The first person takes three. The second takes as many as the first, plus three. Four more guests continue in this manner. Finally, there are six shots leftover. How many did the host originally set out?"

Claire had resumed sucking. Hershel closed his eyes and tried to concentrate as she bobbed up and down. "Oh!" he said after a moment. "Sixty nine."

"He got it!" She turned to Claire gleefully.

"Why don't we get to it then, Emmy" Claire cheered. She sat up, laughing, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. With a big toothy grin, Emmy reached for her and pulled her in for a kiss.

Emmy broke the kiss and toppled over onto the mattress, still giggling. Claire crawled around so her backside was hovering over Emmy's face. Emmy put one hand on each side of her ass and guided her down until she could press her mouth to her slick folds.  Claire inhaled sharply, her eyes closed. She leaned forward and returned the favor to Emmy, wrapping her arms around her legs so she could use her fingers to rub around her entrance as she licked.

Hershel was ready to settle into a spectator roll again, and had already leaned back onto the bed and started to stroke himself when Emmy caught his eye from below Claire's firm round rear.  She beckoned him over with one free hand.

"Come tap this ass, Professor," she said, squeezing hard and giving one cheek a quick slap.

Put off by the humor, but still eager to comply, he crawled over.  Emmy had worked Claire up to three fingers and was pumping them in and out of her. When he was within radius, Emmy grabbed his tender, aching flesh and helped guide him into Claire. He grabbed her hips on either side and eased in; her back arched and she breathlessly called out to him. Emmy, pleased with herself, leaned back onto the mattress momentarily and watched the two fuck like beasts from below them. From her unique vantage point, she had access to both Hershel and Claire's most sensitive places. Careful not to get in the way, she licked Claire's clit, flicking it with her tongue, swirling around it and taking joy in the animalistic noises Claire was humming into her in response.  Then, she moved slightly so she could tongue both of them as he slid in and out of her.

Hershel swore under his breath.  Leave it to Emmy to figure out how to give them both oral at once! And now Claire's walls were beginning to get terribly tight around him.  Claire was screaming with her mouth on Emmy's wet pussy. The vibrations were driving Emmy insane; she knew she wouldn't last much longer, and her own vocalizations were surely having the same effect on the others.

Emmys hands were wet from playing with Claire and Hershel. She grabbed Hershel's thrusting hips with one hand, and with the other reached around and deftly slipped a finger inside.

"Ah!!" he cried. Her finger curved to stroke his prostate as he bucked ferociously into his lover.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes, yes!" With each thrust into Claire, his cock and balls were also being licked, and now a new sensation consumed him each time he drew back. "I, I think I'm--"

Claire let out a primal scream. Hershel and Emmy followed suit tumultuously as they reached their climaxes almost simultaneously.  Panting and completely dizzy, Hershel weakly extricated himself, covered in sweat, lotion and cum, and tried not to collapse on Emmy's face. Once clear, he allowed his body to succumb to exhaustion and toppled over onto the mattress next to the two panting women.  Before he could say or think anything, he blacked out....


	2. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor wakes up in his office and can't seem to keep his mind off of that dream.

Hershel jolted awake and shot straight up. He looked around the familiar, dark room, puzzled for a moment. He was on the couch in his office, not a bed, and certainly not in any mansion. His jacket, which often used as a blanket, was crumpled in a heap on the floor next to his shoes and a pile of books.

He was still breathing heavily. Was it really only a dream?  He angrily rubbed his tired eyes with a fist, flustered and thoroughly embarrassed at such a thought. Of course it was a dream! Claire was already gone by the time he met Emmy. Plus, he would never end up... in a situation like that....

The clock on the wall read twenty minutes past five; the birds outside were chirping but the sun had not yet begun its ascent over the horizon. Hershel Layton flopped back down onto the couch in the dark room, his eyes closed and brow furrowed.

That his subconscious mind would ruminate so deeply and in such detail over such carnal machinations was, quite frankly, disturbing!  ...And yet, he was finding it difficult to push the thoughts from his mind.  Their moans, the smell of their sex, the sweat of their bodies....  Oh but to have such a tantalizingly titillating tête-à-tête with those two women.  He closed his eyes, trying to recall each detail as though it were a memory, not a fantasy.  Claire and Emmy, so alike and yet so different.  They really would have liked each other had they met, he thought.  His face was hot just thinking about it.

He felt heat convene in another part of his body also. He opened his eyes; to his chagrin, evidence of his lecherous thoughts had manifested as a rather large display in his pants.  Humiliated, his eyes flicked towards the door.  It was locked, right?  Nobody would be visiting this early, anyways.  And it was Saturday, so even Rosa and the rest of the maintenance staff was all undoubtedly tucked snugly into their beds at home.

Be that as it may, he couldn't allow himself to give in to such carnal habits.  He turned back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes again, hoping neglect would be the solution to this problem.

But... did he really have an... an anal fantasy just now?  He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, his eyebrows knitted together. And a threesome, really?  Or was it just those two women who turned him on so fiercely?  And... public sex!  He frowned.  Is it public if it's not your house?  Whatever the case may be, it's still a problem that should never be entertained!

His heart was racing.  He reached up above his head with one hand; his hat was there on his head right where it should be, a calming force whenever he needed.  As he touched the soft fabric of its brim he sighed, feeling his tension fade.  There was no need to question himself. His dream meant only that he hadn't engaged in intercourse for some time.  Nothing more or less to be deciphered there.

Resigned to the fact that he would not be falling asleep again soon, he reached over the edge of the couch and retrieved a book and his jacket, re-draping the latter over himself.  The book was a new one, written by a colleague of a friend whom had requested he check it out.  It was about the history of the ethnic groups based in and around Uganda, and was a fascinating read.

It was still rather dark in the room, however.  He drew the book close to his nose, and the sweet scent of a new print played in his nostrils.  It reminded him of... Claire.  He closed his eyes.  Beautiful Claire's scent.  He drew in another intoxicating breath.  When he held her close, embraced her tight, he would bury his face in her neck and smell that sweet scent.  He could almost hear her laughter, as she would always do when he nuzzled her neck like that.  ...She really would have liked Emmy though, they would have made great friends.  They undoubtedly would have done everything together.  Research, hiking, cooking, errands, shopping... him....

He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, his face flush with embarrassment again.  With a thud, he slammed his book shut and set it on the ground.  Finally defeated, he lifted his arms and took off his hat, twisting his torso to set it down on another pile of books out of sight behind the couch.  He settled back down and took one last glance at the door, halfway expecting Chelmey or the like to barge in and take him away for simply considering what he was about to do.  When Chelmey failed to manifest, his mind instead pictured Claire and Emmy coming through that door together after completing their Christmas shopping.  With arms full of gifts and glowing, smiling faces, they would be telling jokes, laughing.... He would have them both, right here, over his desk or against a bookshelf.  He could fuck them from his office chair, or against the door.  They would team up and pin him to the sofa, lust playing in their eyes as they had their way with him.

He stroked the inside of his thigh, as Claire had done in his dream.  The hitherto neglected thickness jumped at the touch. He traced a finger along and around it, as she had done.  He pressed against it with the palm of his hand and felt a shiver run through his body.  Precum was starting to spread in the fabric. He undid his belt buckle, as Emmy had done in his dream, then pulled down the zipper and carefully pulled his thick, throbbing erection free from his pants and boxer briefs.

He gripped the top with one hand and rubbed his thumb against the sensitive glans.  More precum dribbled out, and he used the moisture to stroke the head and top of the shaft.  With the other hand, he gripped the base, trapping blood inside and making it throb harder than before.  The more he pumped, the more aroused he became, and so more precum spilled forth.  This in turn allowed him to pump more, harder.  He closed his eyes and rolled his head to one side, trying to stifle a moan into the side of the couch.

He was vigorously pumping with both hands now, imagining Claire on one side and Emmy on the other. They would lick up his shaft together, they would take turns taking him deep into their throats.  They would grab his balls, Emmy would then... he touched his perineum. He stroked it softly, rubbed it, then ventured a little lower.

His breathing shallow, his whole body felt aflame as he neared his climax.  He raised one leg over the back of the couch to grant himself better access and prodded at the hole with the tip of a finger. He pictured Emmy using the excess seminal fluid to coat her fingers, and ram them into him.

He cried out and arched his back as a huge load of cum hit the back of the chair, spraying upwards towards the ceiling. Another thick rope trailed behind it, and another after that. Layton finally collapsed, completely drained and gasping for air.

He lay there, panting and savoring the warmth.  The familiar sound of the morning rush hour was now keenly audible. After a few minutes, he opened an eye to survey the damage. His hands were sloppy with the viscous white fluid, and as he tried to wipe them on his shirt, he discovered that it was in the same condition.  The couch, a nearby display case, and even the ceiling had all fallen victim.

Layton groaned. He supposed he should run home and take a shower.  He didn't have any lectures today, but there were a couple of office meetings scheduled.  Well, perhaps he would just have to reschedule them for another day.  It _was_ Saturday, after all, and both Claire and Emmy would want him to get some much needed rest today.  With that thought, he closed his eyes and drifted contentedly back to sleep.

 


End file.
